


The End of... What?!

by dizzy, savvymavvy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Episode Reaction, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvymavvy/pseuds/savvymavvy





	The End of... What?!

Hats off to our viewing audience tonight. That was fun for us, hope it was for you!

Darren has his script curled up and shoved into his back pocket. He grabs the bag of Indian food from the seat of his car and slips up Chris’ driveway. His new house affords the both of them a level of privacy and security they didn’t have before. Now Darren is less concerned with a wandering stray eye looking over and spotting him entering Chris’ house.  
  
He digs his keys out of his pocket and lets himself in.   
  
“Hey Brian,” Darren coos, spotting the fat cat as he stretches and yawns on the couch. The cat doesn’t even bother to stand to see him, just opens one eye and then falls back asleep. It’s just Darren, not anyone _important_ like his daddy.

“Yeah well, you remember that when you’re jonesing for a piece of my vindaloo chicken, yeah?” He mutters, heading straight for the kitchen to set the bags down, his script down onto the table alongside it. It has been a long, long week and he and Chris both have scripts to look over and lines to learn. He has appearances to make later in the weekend but tonight is for them. They may both be doing work, but they’re going to be doing work _together_.

Chris, unlike Darren, has had a nice long relaxing day, enjoying the life of a television star who isn’t being focused in every other musical number on a hit tv show.

Turns out swaying in the background, while not exactly thrilling, makes for a less stressful existence all around. Especially when even the swaying is relegated to every fourth episode. He’s already comfortable in pajama pants and a stolen hoodie, curled around his laptop on the couch when he hears the door open.

He smiles, not at anything in particular, just warmed through by the reminder that Darren is so at home here. He has a key - has had since Chris got them for the new house - and he isn’t too bashful to use it. Enough of Darren’s things have migrated over into Chris’s new home that it might as well just be theirs.

And maybe, Chris thinks, he’ll have the nerve to voice that thought some day soon.

“Hi,” he says, smiling when Darren appears in the doorway. He puts the laptop aside and uncurls his legs to get to his feet. “Indian?”

His face lights up. He hasn’t really had any particular craving throughout the day, but Indian sounds delicious now that the smell is filling the room.

He goes over to help Darren with the bags and give him a sweet little welcome kiss on the mouth.

“Yes well, I did have a craving for naan, so, that happened,” Darren mumbles into the kiss. He wraps his arms around Chris’ waist and holds him close, not letting him go even when Brian starts meowing loudly and winding through Chris’ legs.

“Go ‘way,” he continues, trying to shoo Brian away with his shoe. “Daddy’s getting some.”

“No,” Chris mumbles back, pulling away. “Daddy’s not. Unless ‘some’ means food. Daddy’s _hungry_.”

Chris swipes the bags from Darren’s grasp and takes them into the kitchen. His stomach is growling now, and he doesn’t even bother setting out plates. It’s not like it’ll be the first time they’ve eaten out of the takeaway containers.

“Do you feel like wine?” He asks. “I’ve got a bottle in the fridge if you wanna-”

Before he can even finish the sentence, Darren is grabbing the corkscrew out of the drawer it lives in.

He grins impishly at Chris, before grabbing two glasses and pouring them both fairly generous glasses.

“Did you get your script sent over?” Darren nods to where his is still resting on the table. “It looks like its going to be a working night tonight.”

“It has, but I haven’t looked at it yet. I got on a roll with my story…” Chris rambles for a minute on the idea he’s had. He’s not sure if it’ll entirely pan out yet or not, but if it doesn’t it won’t be the first chapter he’s scrapped after the fact. It’s exciting for the moment, though, just to get all the words out of his head and onto the screen.

The script really hadn’t even entered his mind, still stuck in the envelope on his table.

He grabs utensils and they move all the food into the living room, spreading it out across Chris’s coffee table like a little buffet. Darren might claim the vindaloo as his own but they both know Chris will end up helping himself to it whenever he wants, and Darren won’t complain. (And it won’t make a difference even if he does.)

Darren settles back, glass of wine in front of him and plate of food on his lap as Chris flickers through the TiVo. With the schedule they face, actually watching TV proves to be fairly difficult.

“Daily Show?” Chris asks, highlighting one of their many recorded programs.

Darren nods, mouth full of rice. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Good god I’m starving. We’ve been in and out of rehearsals for this big group number we have to do with a merry-go-round. Someone always keeps throwing the pacing off. Apparently the numbers in tonights script. Will be nice to actually see what it goes to.”

“... merry go round?” Chris asks. “I’m afraid. I’m very afraid.”

He reaches over to grab his own script, pulling it out of the envelope at the same time he takes a bite of rice and chicken, narrowly avoiding sauce dripping onto the page. He flips through absently, mostly scanning for his own name, while Darren gets the tv show going.

What he does see makes his eyes go wide. “Uh. Wow. Okay.”

He notices Darren glancing at him curiously.

“... What?” Darren clicks on the next ep, the first one they’ve not seen yet before setting the remote off to the side. “Is it some crazy weird ep that makes no sense what so ever where once again I am still in Ohio and my fiancee is in New York and we never acknowledge each other’s existence?”

“Do you really want to start discussing meta on our characters when our own lives are built around appearing to be things we are not?” Chris says, pointedly. It’s not like Darren to care overly much what he’s being paid to act out, but they both have their moments.

At this point, Chris is entirely certain that the only reason he’s remained sane as an actor on this show is by not letting himself think too hard about it. If he did, he’d just be insane by now.

(But that doesn’t stop him from having a little bit of sympathy for Kurt, having everything he’s ever wanted for the rest of his life dangled right in front of him, only to have it whisked away to another set for the foreseeable future.)

Darren just shrugs. “I’m just saying. If I had the ability to be where my fiancee was all the time well…” He trails off and shrugs again. He doesn’t want to get too far into this conversation. It isn’t something either one of them can discuss right now.

He wipes his fingers on his jeans and grabs for his script, flipping the first page to read the name of the episode. “Really?” He asks, looking over at Chris and raising an eyebrow. “The End of _Twerk_?”

“And it looks like one Blaine Anderson is responsible for the - well, maybe not the end of twerking, but at least the plot device of it.” Chris bites his lip and looks over at Darren. “They’re just making fun of you at this point, aren’t they? For that whole awards show thing?”

Chris can’t even say he found that hot. In theory, maybe - Darren bouncing his ass all over the place. But add a tiger onesie and an audience of thousands and suddenly it’s just borderline embarrassing.

Luckily for MTV and the viewing audience, Darren and “embarrassment” only have a passing acquaintance. There’s not much Darren won’t do if someone is willing to watch him while he does it.

(And that, Chris thinks, is lucky for _him_.)

Darren flips through the first few pages, his eyes scanning over the words before he drops the script and groans.

“God you’ve got to be…” He shakes his head and just starts laughing. “Sometimes I wonder how Ryan gets his ideas. Other times I know exactly how he does and I wonder if i shouldn’t be filing a complaint somewhere. Or else looking at getting a raise. Pretty sure I’m playing two characters on this show.”

“Darren and Darren’s Ass,” Chris says, knowingly. “You could maybe even make an argument for it being three characters. Left cheek and right cheek?”

Chris flips back to the start to read Blaine’s episode teaser into in more detail. His grin grows and grows at the descriptions on the page.

He takes another bite of food, reading it a second time, then shuts the descript and looks at Darren. “Obviously, you need to practice this. Right now.”

He’s teasing, waiting to see if Darren will take the bait.

(Darren almost always takes the bait.)

“You just want a dinner and a show,” Darren teases back, stealing a piece of chicken from Chris. “Just wanna see me dance in my nice, tight pants huh?” He leans over and licks a bit of stray sauce from Chris chin.

Chris just smirks back at him. The answer is obvious.

“Naughty,” he murmurs to Chris. He thinks the idea has merit, he kinda likes dancing for Chris, moving his body to a beat and knowing that Chris’ eyes are watching him. But right now there is food and wine… He grabs his glass and downs a bit more of it, letting the warmth from the alcohol flood through him.

“Okay, fine,” Chris relents. “After dinner. And The Daily Show. That science guy is on. I love him.”

*

The show is good, dinner is good, and the wine is more than good… but Chris doesn’t forget their little agreement.

He pushes Darren away mid-kiss, and shakes his head demurely. “We need to rehearse, remember?”

Of course they don’t need to rehearse anything together, not really, but it’s a little throwback to the days when they did… and when that kind of rehearsal almost always lead to something completely not screen-appropriate.

“Uh-huh,” Darren murmurs against his lips, kissing him deeper. “We need to rehearse or you just want to watch me shake my booty?”

“The second one,” Chris says, and shoves at his chest until Darren gets to his feet. “Come on. Twerk for me.”

It’s not actually something Darren has really done before. Not as an actual dance move. Darren shaking his ass against Chris, okay, that’s like a regular occurrence, but… usually Chris is not in the position to stop and admire it from a distance. Usually by the time Darren is pulling those moves Chris is buried balls deep inside of him.

So he definitely wouldn’t mind getting to see what it looks like. What Darren looks like, twerking, without that idiotic suit on and without an audience nation-wide. He wants to see what Darren looks like when he does it just for Chris.

“I can’t just dance with no music Chris,” Darren protests. He grabs his phone and shuffles through a few songs he has on there, looking for the right one. He finds Maroon 5’s One More Night and yeah, yeah that’s got a good beat. He clicks on it and changes the output so it plays through Chris’ bluetooth speakers.

Grinning at Chris he warms up, shaking his hips back and forth slowly, taking his time and letting it match the beat. When things go faster he drops it down low, shaking it back and forth.

It’s ridiculous. The dance, the moves, the whole thing. Chris has the utmost respect for Darren’s posterior but… it’s still ridiculous.

And somehow, inexplicably, really fucking hot.

Darren has his back to Chris so he doesn’t see when Chris slides his hand between his legs to rub at himself, he doesn’t see when Chris bites his lip and he doesn’t hear it over the music when Chris sighs a little to himself and he definitely must not hear it when Chris whimpers as Darren pushes his ass back and pops it _just_ so.

Darren runs a hand up under his shirt, rucking it up a bit as he goes back to just shaking his hips back and forth slowly. He turns as he moves so he can see Chris. It doesn’t take much for his eyes to zero in right at where Chris is slowly growing hard under his pants. Darren smirks and rucks his shirt up higher as he begins to bend his knees, ass out and just shakes it.

“Take it off,” Chris says, trying not to feel too shamefully like he’s directing a stripper in a night club. “Take your shirt off.”

He groans audibly when Darren does it, watching the planes of his back and the flex and twist of muscle as Darren moves his body.

Darren turns himself over to the music, letting the beat and the alcohol move his body. He drops his shirt off to the side and begins to bend himself in half again, shaking harder and moving backwards so he’s pushing his ass back in Chris’ face as he goes.

Chris can’t help but reach out and take. He grabs Darren’s hips and hauls him back, throwing Darren off balance enough that he sits down on Chris.

He recovers quickly, though, and Chris sees white behind his clenched shut eyes when Darren picks up the pace again but this time with his ass grinding right down against Chris’s cock.

Using a hand on the ground for leverage, Darren bounces his ass up and down in Chris’ lap, right on top of Chris’ cock. “This what you were wanting?” He asks, voice husky from the wine and arousal. He pushes back again and he can feel the heat through the thin pajama pants. They are

barely even there, hardly an obstacle between Darren and getting to Chris’ cock.

“No,” Chris chokes out. “But - yes.”

Because that hadn’t been what he’d been wanting, but only because he just hadn’t thought to want it yet.

And now that he has it, yes - yes, yes, a million times yes, he wants that pressure, that firm press, teasing bouncing touch, god, he wants it all. He leans his forehead against Darren’s back and desperately grasps at his hips.

He can’t remember the last time Darren got him so turned on so fast. Maybe it’s the newness of it, grinding and sex with clothes still on - it’s been a while since they’ve had to get creative like that. Maybe it’s having Darren here unrestrained all for him. He gets turned on, so fucking crazy with it, like the domesticity of Darren in his own house feeds right into his libido. Maybe it’s all of it all mixed together and maybe it’s just that they haven’t had time or privacy or peace to fuck in a couple of weeks.

He’s glad Darren comes back from New York so happy and so recharged but he misses the fuck out of Darren when he’s gone. His bed is lonely and since Darren’s return they’ve been so busy but finally they have tonight and this, this is a nice way to start it.

Darren grinds back against him one last time before sliding from his lap. His iPhone has continued playing, moving on to Radioactive and fuck yeah, that’s a good song to fuck to. That beat gets inside his chest and won’t let him go and he likes the way its making him feel right now.

His eyes are right on Chris as he thumbs the button of his jeans open and then rolls his body, his hips snaking and the zipper ever so slowly sliding down one tooth at a time.

“Yeah, just like that,” Chris says, greedy and grinning as he helps Darren’s pants down and off. He palms Darren’s ass, appreciating the soft give of it and the firm muscle underneath. It’s all so perfectly on display in tight red briefs, from the cheeks of his ass to the bulge of his balls and oh Chris just knows if he reaches his hand around Darren would already be hard, dick straining and trying to nudge it’s way free of the fabric.

He grabs Darren by the hips and hauls him back down so Chris can grind up, so much better without the thick layer of denim between them. The shape of Chris’s cock finds home in the groove of Darren’s ass and they both let out a sigh of relief and longing.

Darren whimpers softly and pushes back hard. The heat of Chris’ cock is greater like this and fuck he can feel him so fucking good like this. There is a damp spot on the front of Chris’ pajamas and he keeps rubbing his ass back and forth over it.

Letting his head drop back on Chris’ shoulders, Darren works himself to his knees enough to actually begin to twerk back into Chris lap. His ass moves fast and hard, shaking all around his dick.

“You,” Chris says, and then chokes off with a little gasp. “You are _not_ doing this on screen, okay. I don’t - I don’t care. Who. Just, no. Not… _especially_ not Chord, okay. You are not going to - ohfuck - you are not going to hump Chord’s dick on screen. I just-”

His fingers go bruising-tight on Darren’s hips and it might be sort of a joke but he also might really mean it, because he’s about had his fill of watching Darren get to do with Chord what Darren isn’t allowed to do with him.

Darren whimpers at the tight grip of Chris fingers, at how hard he’s holding on and how he keeps pulling him back onto his dick. “Is that what he wants to see? Wants to see me grinding back on Chord, huh?” Darren sympathizes with Chris, knows how unfair it is that he can pal around with Chord but can’t with Chris because of what people might say. He’s been told his eyes don’t help.

“What if it was on you? What about that?” He turns his head to nip and suck at Chris’ long smooth neck.

Chris laughs. “Like they’d ever let that happen.”

But it’s just - it’s a fact of life, at this point. Chris doesn’t even mind aways, because it’s in both of their best interests for this to stay private for now, and he knows… he knows, and everyone else knows, that the more he and Darren are allowed to be together on screen the more shines through.

Maybe it’s good acting, maybe it’s attachment to the characters, maybe it’s professionalism and dedication, but even if it’s any of those things it just doesn’t fucking matter because all anyone will see is how Darren looks at him and they’ll think Darren not Blaine.

Darren can do it here and now, though. There are no cameras, no audience, no characters. There’s Darren and Darren’s perfect amazing ass that Chris is currently trying his best to fuck through his pajamas and Darren’s underwear because he just can’t get close enough.

Pajamas - he wants those gone. He shoves at them, muttering “Off,” under his breath, loud enough for Darren to hear. But Darren thinks he means the underwear and okay, yeah, Chris is good with that, they can all go for all Chris cares.

He slides from Chris’ lap and runs his hands down the sides of his body to shimmy out of the red briefs, kicking them across the room somewhere (he doesn’t even care right now). Chris is tugging at his own pajama pants and Darren is quick to help, grabbing on and tugging them off before he pulls Chris to stand, bodies flushed together. They’re both hot from drinking and he’s a bit sweaty from dancing but their bodies fit together like always.

“Move with me,” he whispers, hips grinding and pushing into Chris’ as they begin to just barely dance. The skin to skin contact is amazing and with every thrust Darren can feel Chris cock brush and push against his own. It feels amazing.

Chris kisses Darren’s neck desperately, barely remembering not to suck marks onto the skin. No bruises, not while they’re filming - plenty of time during the hiatus, they’ll have plenty of time to indulge later, but not now. No matter how gorgeous Darren looks like this or how much Chris wants to taste.

So he kisses up Darren’s neck to his jaw, licking over stubble, to his mouth where Darren meets the kiss head on. It’s a crush of mouth on mouth that goes softer and suckling with a few seconds of contact gratification. Chris curls his fingers into Darren’s hair with both hands and keeps him in place, their hips keeping up a different kind of rhythm, rubbing together.

The frotting feels good but Darren wants more. Pulling away from the kiss to breathe, he turns in Chris arms so he’s plastered his back to Chris’ front. Leaning forward slightly, he pushes his ass into Chris and moves up and down until Chris’ cock slides in between the cheeks of his ass again. He pauses before beginning to shake his ass like that.

It’s good - not fucking Darren good, but still good. It’s a tacky jerky slide lubricated only by the sweat of their bodies but it’s just enough for Chris to fuck up between the meaty cheeks of Darren’s ass, sandwiched between the flesh. He can feel the heat of them combined and the way Darren drives down on him like he’s trying to get Chris inside of him just like this.

“Want you to fuck me,” Darren begs. “Please fuck me.” He continues to move back against Chris, full on grinding his ass into Chris as best he can. “Please let me have it.”

“Y-yes,” Chris stutters. “Fuck you, gonna fuck you, so hard-”

But god, it feels so good, and it’s been a while and Chris is embarrassed at how close he is and how little time it takes. His cock pops between Darren’s thighs on a downthrust and he can feel the soft sag of Darren’s balls against him and the thick muscle squeezing him and he’s shouting and coming before he even really registers that it’s happening, semen thick and white and painting Darren’s skin, spurting up and dripping through Darren’s pubic hair and over the shaft of his cock and against his thighs and smearing messily everywhere because Chris just can’t stop fucking into the feeling of it, the mimicry of sex.

Darren groans hard and pushes back into Chris. He can feel the hot splatter of his come on his skin and it makes his own cock jerk in sympathy. “Need, need, oh fuck--” He starts, fisting his own cock. Chris is on his knees quickly, grabbing Darren’s hips and sinking his mouth down on his cock. Darren cries out, eyes squeezed shut hard as he begins to thrust hard into Chris’ mouth, fucking him, before he pulls out and begins to come. Ropes his Chris’ cheek before Darren jerks and aims into his mouth, landing a few spurts right on his tongue.

Chris slumps back, arms loosely around Darren. He feels a little woozy and wrung out and overheated and buzzing in that perfect post-orgasmic way.

He swipes his fingers over his chin to gather up the come and he’s about to lick it off with his own tongue when he changes his mind and guides them to Darren’s mouth. “Good boy,” he murmurs as Darren suckles all the semen off.

Then he leans in and presses his mouth against Darren’s, kissing long and slow and sweet in that way he hadn’t had the patience for earlier. He loves how Darren just sinks into it and returns every beat of emotion touch for touch. They’re on the same page with this - even when they aren’t with much else in their lives, they find their connection together in quiet naked moments.

Darren’s own arms wrap around Chris as he holds on tight, both of them fighting to breathe as the come down from this orgasmic high. “God, I love you,” he mumbles, nosing at Chris’ ear. “Pretty sure none of that will be in the show that though.”

Chris almost chokes on a laugh, resting his head against Darren’s shoulder as his heart rate slows to something that might pass as normal. “As long as Blaine isn’t doing that with Sam.”

“Mm,” Darren agrees. Their bodies sway back and forth slightly to the fading music. “Just with you,” he promises. His hand slips down Chris’ arm to tangle their fingers together before he begins to tug Chris over to the stairs and up to bed. The wine and the food are still out and they’ll need to clean off soon but, right now, Darren just wants to enjoy Chris. “Come on, lets go to bed.”

Chris lets Darren tug him up to his feet before he leans in for another hug, full body. He loves the way he feels skin to skin with Darren, arms wrapped tight around each other. “You know,” he laughs softly, pressing a kiss to Darren’s jaw. “We really do suck at rehearsing.”


End file.
